The Beginning
by Bitten Nails
Summary: Summary inside. Rated T because I'm a bit paranoid!
1. Summary

Once upon a time, when the world was still at balance, when the fight for power wasn't as ruthless as it was now, there stood two great kingdom. Panem and Camelot.

Filled with scholars, philosophers, and generally people who had an insatiable hunger for knowledge, Panem was known for its almost feverish pursue for answers. Every question—how do plants grow? what makes a person behave as one does? how does everything work?—they would search high and low for answers. With this knowledge, they changed their laws, introduced devices for easy-life—generally remade Panem into "Modern Land" as most foreigners call it. And, of course, with their ingenuity, they were known by their foes as "The Heartless Strategist." They would attack anyone against them by combining strategies, calculations, weaknesses—knowledge. Panem won wars by breaking their enemies. No one dared to touch them. But everyone was fascinated by them.

Chivalry, nobility, strength—Camelot. This land boasted their knights. True to their kingdom, fought for the welfare of all, protected the weak and the defenseless, lived to serve the people, persevered even when all hope was lost—Knights. These were the noble ones who represented what the kingdom believed in. Loyal to their friends, merciless with their enemies, Camelot was loved by all.

Once upon a time, these two great lands were friends. Allies in every battle. Equals in every war. Both lived in perfect harmony. Peace was known throughout both lands. Everyone was happy.

Though there were those who were certainly greedy.

And with these treacherous trait, our story closes in a bloody war and a past forgotten; a rift made and a promise lost.

But, dear Reader, no one ever said the story was finished.


	2. Prologue

Alright! So. This is it. My very first take on Merlin (and Hunger Games) fanfiction. After a hundred pokes and prods and rewrites, I gained the courage to _finally_ post this. Seriously, my hands are cold with nervousness right now. Keep in mind English is not my first language. I'm not particularly very familiar with paragraphing, grammar and punctuations (at least, I'm not very clear what a semicolon (;) is used for).

That said, please review! Corrections, suggestions, reactions—anything—would be much helpful.

Enjoy! ^ ^

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**Prologue**

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_He ran, barely seeing anything, tears blurring his vision. The sound of twigs snapping, of peace being disturbed, echoed in his ears. His muscles ached, his lungs burned, his heart thundered. Every harsh breath he took made his bruised ribs scream in protest. He felt bile rise to his throat, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His legs were carrying him, his body not anymore listening to his brain._

To anyone who cares_, he prayed, chanting the words in his head, putting all his desperate will to it, _please don't let them catch me_. The sound of men and dogs spurred his legs to go faster. They were close. Too close. If he slowed, he would be caught. And that would be the end of it. He would be tortured and turned into a slave. Tongue cut off and will forever broken._

_"Give up now, boy! You can _never_ escape us!"_

_The men laughed, mocking him, telling him that his life was something they wouldn't lose sleep on; that his life didn't matter at all to them, so long as they get good money for it. _

_He ran faster._

_"It's... no... use...!"_

_They were close, but they sounded tired. They were panting, breath almost loud in the boy's ears. There could be a lot of them, but, given the choice on who would win when it comes to stamina, there was no doubt about it. They were old. He was young. They lived their lives drinking themselves to waste. He lived his life fighting._

_He had a chance._

_With this realization, he spurred his legs to go on faster, ignoring his muscles' screeching protest. He just had to lose them. He just had to find a good place to hide. He could hide his tracks. He just needed distance and time. He could do this._

_"Stop!"_

_Just a little more... Freedom was closer... Just a little more..._

Bang!

_The sound of a gun firing off startled him, making him lose his rhythm. He stumbled from a protruding root, and, with a startled cry, his face met the ground, rocks and fallen wood scratching at his skin. His ribs throbbed, his body ached. And just like that, all the hope he ever had of escaping were gone. _

No_, he thought, heart breaking, vision wavering. Images of his family, of his friends, of everything he ever held dear, shattered. No more. He could no more see them again. He was trapped. He couldn't escape. His freedom was gone. _

_Gone... _

_The tears he held for so long fell. His heart pounded, almost like it was encouraging him to get up and move. But no more. The aches he had ignored, the wounds he had neglected, now made themselves known. Already, his vision was blurring. His body could barely hold him up. They were closer now, he could hear, laughing, mocking, insulting._

_A sob escaped him. He looked up to the sky, a blue canvas with just the tiny hints of orange—dusk. Where the daylight disappears, the dangers' delight. He would be caught at the time when darkness crept out, a fitting reminder of his doomed fate._

_He smiled sadly._

_"What did I say, boy?" a man, who was faster than the others, sneered. "You can _never_ escape."_

'Never...' _Amazing how a word can affect your whole life, huh?_

_Blackness engulfed him, giving him a temporary respite, a calm before the cruel storm._


	3. Chapter 1: A Familiar Calling

Finally! Sorry for the late update. My schedule's a bit full, so I haven't found the time to post this earlier.

Anyways. So. I'm gonna introduce a new character! I know some people hate that (even I do sometimes) but I just needed an OC to spark up the plot, you know? Don't worry, though. OC won't be seen for _that_ long after the first introductions are over with.

Also, this is my first Merlin fanfic, so I don't think I'll be able to nail the characters right. With Merlin/Emrys, though, I think I'm gonna make him a tad bit OOC. I have to take in account of his attitude while surrounded by poverty, hardships and having to see weird people in weird outfits get entertained by an event created to bring about innocence's demise.

That said, enjoy! And review, please, if you have the time.

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_"A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow." _  
_― William Shakespeare_

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**Chapter 1: **A Familiar Calling

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Emrys gasped, sitting down, breaking into cold sweat. His heart was pounding and he was breathing heavily. He looked towards his little window and saw that it was still dark, the kingdom still asleep. It was just a dream. Just a dream... He wasn't there. He was here. In Camelot... It was just a dream.

Groaning softly, he left the comfort of his little bed and stood up, pacing back and forth.

He thought about his dream and shuddered. Why, of all days, did he have to dream about that? He should've forgotten about it. Everything about that event should've been buried deep in the creases of his mind, forever lost.

He sighed and sat down on his cot, dragging his hand down over his face, tired, but not sleepy. He puzzled over his nightmare. Why would he have to be reminded about that now? It had been years last time he ever considered it. He thought he had all but forgotten. After all, it looked like they had forgotten about him, too.

Sighing heavily, the warlock stood up again. He didn't know what to do. But he knew nothing will come of him sitting here in this dark, confined room of his. He needed some air.

Emrys liked being in the forest at night, although he didn't appear to be. In fact, it was the only thing that could calm him when he has those little 'dreams'. There was something about the peace and eerie silence that made him feel like he was... _home_.

Living in a home where there was probably more trees than it did people could tend to be really quiet.

Emrys sighed, feeling nostalgic at the attack of memories from his childhood home. He remembered the times he and his friends would run around the woods, trying to catch the other, laughing all the while. The adults would shake their heads in amusement, some grumbling in annoyance, some would even outright scold them. And then there was his bestfriend, the best archer he had ever known—even now that he had met Sir Leon. She was also the best violinist (of course, it was also because she was one of the few people who owned a violin and had the fortune of having someone teach her).

Emrys sighed again, missing his bestfriend. It was times like these that he missed her the most. What with all the Morgana-taking-over-Camelot business and the constant harms and dangers surrounding Arthur, he really needed someone who knew what it felt like to have a great responsibility weighing on their shoulders. He had Gaius to tell him what to do, advices that could help him protect the king, but he didn't have him to just... talk to. Gaius was a good mentor, but... He wasn't—

_Emrys..._

Startled, he yelped, his voice echoing in the silent forest. He whirled around to look for anything that might tell him of the source, but nothing was there. He shook his head, dismissing the sound as the wind. Dawn was fast approaching. He needed to wake Arthur soon.  
He was about to turn for home, when the sound came again.

_Emrys..._

He jumped a litte, heart beating faster, but this time he stayed silent. Maybe it was Kilgarrah? But, no... It couldn't be him. This one's pitch was higher, softer...

A female's.

And it was familiar... Very familiar... But he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Perhaps a druid he met on one of his adventures?

_... Please, if you're there..._

That, it seemed, did it for him. Without knowing how, his legs moved. He didn't know where he was going, only he knew that he had to help whoever it was calling. Something about the voice made his heart beat faster, his legs keep moving. He knew he should know what was going on. A sense of familiarity washed over him the closer he got to whoever was calling.

And then, just as sudden, a name flashed in his mind. A name he couldn't have forgotten, no matter how many negative things surrounded it. A name he both loved and hated. A name that had the power to make his heart pound, his eyes sting. A name that meant safety. Familiarity. Home.

Heart pounding in his ears, he started to run, grinning, tears streaming down his face, only one thought in his mind:

She was here.


	4. Chapter 2: The Start of a Strange Day

Here's the next one! Sorry for the long wait. I began to read a book called "Divergent" by Veronica Roth, and... Well, let's just say that it's a bad idea to start reading a book with 500 plus pages 1 am in the morning. _Especially_ if you're going to have school the next morning.

*clears throat awkwardly*

Anyways! As you will probably notice, Merlin/Emrys would be acting (a bit) unlike the young warlock you knew. Again, this would be because I took into account his personality back when he was 'supposed' to be living in Panem.

That said, enjoy! ^ ^

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**Chapter 2: **The Start of a Strange Day

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The young king groaned, opening his eyes, ready to shout at his stumbling, bumbling servant who...

...was not here...

In fact, he was the only one in his room.

_Strange_, the king thought, then shook his head. Of course he was late. Merlin wouldn't be Merlin if he wasn't.

Sighing, he stood up from his bed, quietly mourning the loss of his warm covers, and looked for something to dress in. After that, he opened his curtains, squinting at the bright sun showering in. Camelot was bustling with activity, as usual—children were running around, merchants were shouting to buy whatever they were selling, the smell of meat, fruits, vegetables and sometimes the occasional herbs and spices mingled with the air. Everyone was doing their everyday jobs.

The king sighed, deciding that he should do his, too. He turned and paused, looking around his room.

_Something's not right_, he mused, thinking. And then it hit. Rolling his eyes, he set out to find his idiotic manservant.

Something was wrong.

Arthur felt it the moment he stepped inside Gaius' chambers. For starters, Merlin was up and awake, pacing back and forth, unaware of Arthur's presence. Second, Merlin was pacing—something he rarely ever done and it would mean that he was thinking (which was an indication all on its own). Third, Merlin didn't notice him. Usually, right about now, his servant should've been rambling, making up excuses as to why he was late. But he wasn't.

Something was really wrong.

"Merlin," he called.

Again, he was ignored.

Arthur's fingers twitched, resisting the urge to throw something at his servant's head.  
"_Mer_lin."

The results were the same.

Now, Arthur was getting worried. Something was bothering his servant. And usually, when something was bothering Merlin, it would mean bad. Arthur wouldn't admit it, but there were far too many occasions wherein his servant was right. However clumsy and idiotic he would seem, Merlin had times where he would sound... wise.

He started to open his mouth to call his name again when the person in question jerked his head up, glaring murderously at the king. Arthur's smile fell.

"Call me that again, and you will regret it, _princess_." And, just like that, Merlin resumed his pacing, as if what he said wasn't at all strange and weird.

Arthur was shocked. And, dammit, _hurt_. Merlin never said anything like that to Arthur. Merlin never even glared at Arthur before. He was the kind of person that took a lot to get pissed off, and even then, he wouldn't say something like that.

Arthur was about to ask him what his deal was when, suddenly, a sharp cry came from the other room.

Both Arthur's and Merlin's head snapped up, freezing for a moment. Then, faster than Arthur could ever think Merlin was capable of, the servant ran towards it. Arthur froze again. Merlin was definitely acting strange. It seemed, whatever the cause was, was inside that room. And Arthur intended to find out exactly what.


	5. Chapter 3: Their Reunion

**Chapter 3:** Their Reunion

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_You're gonna be alright..._

_...lose you!_

_Gaius!_

_...help!_

Her body ached. Every single cell hurt—even her hair was hurting, if that was possible. And to top it all off, somebody was prodding her, sometimes touching tender places that made her wince inwardly. She wanted to curse whoever it was away. Or possibly strangle to the point of death, but hey, she had a good reason to!

She thought about how she became like this. She was camping in the forest, cleaning her weapons for easy hunting. Then... some figure in the dark caught her attention. She remembered thinking of hunting it, nevermind that it was night. Her supplies were dwindling dangerously, and she needed the food. So she followed it. It was some chase, she recalled. Her arrow missed it too much—something that rarely happened to her. And then she got close... And then...

There was a sharp pain in her ribs.

She yelped, surprised how real that felt. Opening her eyes, she saw an old man standing over her, his eyebrow raised. She was about to ask him who he was when a door opened loudly, causing her to jump. Which, also, caused her ribs to throb more. She groaned, pain shooting at her everywhere.

Another person, this time younger, walked in her vision. He looked familiar, staring down at her with obvious concern. She inclined her head a little, racking her mind for a name. Nothing showed up.

Hmmm... Perhaps just a resemblance with someone?

"Hey," the raven-haired boy started, smiling a little. "You okay?"

Surprised at the boy's worry, she opened her mouth to answer. But, just then, the previous door banged open again.

Jesus, did that door hate her or something?

"Who's she?" another voice demanded, obviously irritated.

At that, she raised her eyebrow. Okay... That was very rude.

Apparently, the boy with the blue eyes thought the same thing. He glared at the newcomer who glared right back. Silence fell as both of them held some kind of quiet war.

Before long, the girl was getting uncomfortable. The bruises and wounds in her body had finally decided to make themselves known. And to top it all off, her throat was parched, begging for water. She hadn't drank anything for days, which was, she knew, would be bad for her current condition. Anyone can go far without food, but with no water, the best they could take is a few weeks, given that that body was in best health to begin with.

Finally, as if hearing her thoughts, the black-haired boy turned, pointedly ignoring the blonde newcomer. That earned an indignant "hey!" but still, the blonde was ignored.

The girl would've laughed at their ridiculous episode if it weren't for the little voice in her head that screamed "I know that dark-haired guy! I know him!" Something about the boy was tugging at her memories... His smile, his eyes—heck, even his actions were familiar.

The boy smiled wider, as if he could read her thoughts. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I forgot who you were, too," the boy joked, his eyes holding a spark she couldn't identify.

A few moments of silence passed, and the boy smiled wide, his grin almost reaching his ears. Then, the previous spark started a fire. And, just like that, the tugging in her mind grew into a full-force yank. Suddenly, memories of her and a boy with dark hair flashed in her mind. Recollections of childhood, of happiness and pain alike. She remembered conversations, experiences, discoveries—everything. It was like a dusty photo album of bittersweet memories that was tucked away in the corners of her mind opened, revealing a life she didn't know she experienced.

Eyes wide, she looked at the boy—_really_ looked at him. She saw her ally, her comrade, her companion through the thick and thin. She saw the boy who helped her when she was down; she saw the boy _she_ helped when he was down. She saw the one who was always there for her, even at times when everyone wasn't.

She saw her bestfriend.

_Finally._


	6. Chapter 4 The Different Kinds of Silence

Here's the next one! I actually had trouble writing this. I couldn't think of a better way to describe the scene inside my mind using an inside point of view. So I opted on just using an outsider's! And bam! This is the result. It didn't quite reach what I was hoping for, but I think you can get the point...? Right? _Right_?

Anyways! Thank you to soopergirl35 for her optimistic comments and support! Seriously. This one's dedicated to you. ^ ^

Enjoy reading! And don't be shy to put in what you think. =)

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_"Silence make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying, but the never needing to say that counts."_  
_― _Margaret Lee Runbeck

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**Chapter 4: **The Different Kinds of Silence

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One time, when he was just a little boy, studying to be the prince his father was expecting, Arthur came across something that he couldn't quite understand. It said that the moment you listen to silence, the moment you hear its sound, maybe then you can truly know. Of course, for the boy it was confusing. 'How can you listen to silence? That's ridiculous! Silence has no sound! What can you know from something that has no sound?' And with that, he dismissed it, never gave it another thought.

But, as Arthur stood inside that room, staring at the two souls just looking at each other, he finally understood.

Silence was another language all on its own.

It wasn't that they were quiet because they had no words to say. Not really. They were quiet because they had a thousand words to say.

Only, they were just using a different kind of communication. The language of the wind and the trees, the flowers and the bees, the sea to the shore. It seemed that by staring at each others' eyes, the two people in the room were one. Their thoughts, the experiences they've known, the knowledge they've acquired, the emotions and feelings they feel and felt—all of them were being said without really being said at all. In a moment of silence, a boy and a girl had the conversation of a lifetime.

It was, strangely enough, quite beautiful.

And so Arthur stood, fixated. He didn't dare move, afraid that it would break the delicate exchange between the two. He didn't even try whisper a word, for a sound would seem like a profanity. The world seemed to stand still, watching the two people. Something was tugging at Arthur's thoughts. Something that concerned the scene unfolding him. He knew, somewhere deep in him, he had seen something like this before. Something the same, but not really. Something powerful and evocative. Something he had seen and loved before opinions were forced in his mind as facts. Something...

...like magic.

_Magic._

As soon as the thought hit, he rejected. Nothing that has to do with magic is ever good. Or beautiful, for heaven's sake! Magic was nothing but destruction. Magic corrupts. Magic is not innocent. Magic is unnatural. Magic is evil.

After all, he had his half-sister as evidence of that.

Arthur didn't notice it before it was too late. Sometime, when he was having his thoughts about magic being all evilness, he made a sound that broke the thing that made him thought of it. Now, Merlin and the girl was glaring at him—mostly his servant, though; the girl was staring at him with a somewhat-amused look, eyebrow raised.

"What?" Arthur couldn't help but ask. The looks the two people gave made him feel a bit, however impossible it may seem, stupid.

"Who are you?" the girl demanded. Very rudely, he might add. It reminded him of someone. Who, by the looks of it, straightened, tense as if something bad may happen. Which made the blonde smirk inwardly, thinking that it was because his servant knew what happened the first time the idiot talked to him like that.

So, with that, Arthur straightened, looking at the girl's startlingly blue eyes, and said, with as much authority as he could, "I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. Who are _you_?"

No one spoke. Not a sound was heard. It was silent. But not the kind of silence Arthur witnessed before. It was more of a... menacing kind. Almost dangerous. Unconsciously, Arthur tensed. This was the kind of atmosphere that screamed something was gonna happen. Something bad.

Sure enough, Arthur didn't have to wait long. The danger attacked. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, face-first, with someone on his back, stretching his right arm to almost breaking point.

"_I_," his attacker said, hate and venom dripping from her voice, "am your _worst_ nightmare."


End file.
